


Little Soldier Boy

by MidnightofLight



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alive Marco Bott, Angst, Comfort, Distrust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Levi/Eren Yeager, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kidnapping, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Multi, Pain, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rescue, Slow Build, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightofLight/pseuds/MidnightofLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is dead. Deader than dead and after three years, Jean has finally been able to somewhat accept the fact that Marco is gone and never coming back. They chose to fight, so they chose death.<br/>That is until Armin comes running with the earth shattering news that Marco is actually alive. Broken, but alive and completely distrusts all of the Survey Corps members.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Shining Star

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> This story contains torture and PTSD. If any of this bothers or triggers you, please turn around.  
> Everyone in this fiction are around three years older than they are in the manga.

_“Leaves from the vine_

_Falling so slow_

_Like fragile, tiny shells_

_Drifting in the foam_

_Little soldier boy_

_Come marching home_

_Brave soldier boy_

_Comes marching home”_

-Iroh; Little Soldier Boy

__

In all honesty, Jean shouldn’t have kept that worn, silver ring of Marco’s. It’s a constant reminder that someone he cares about is dead and never coming back, and every time he sees or turns over the damn thing, a pang of hurt rips through him like a tidal wave. It’s a horrible, awful fucked up feeling that makes him want to curl up and cry. He’s not over Marco. It has _only_ been three years. In fact, he’s never going to forget finding Marco so pale, half of him torn away like a piece of meat, his freckles covered by blood. The chilling image flashes through his mind at least twice a day, and then haunts his dreams almost every night. That ring he keeps only makes it worse.

Still, he wears the band inscribed with a tarnished ‘Bott’ to every battle he fights because in some improbable circumstance, the ring makes him feel like a part of Marco is alongside him, like a ghost who gives him an immeasurable amount of strength. A spirit who is there, but isn’t because there’s no such thing as the dead being alive. Once you’re dead, the ground is your resting place. But Jean still wants to believe that their love—if you could call it that—can transcend any sort of universal truth. For a second he feels as though Marco is with him, and that’s enough to make him slaughter any titan that comes in his path.

So, as he lies in his bed at the barracks, he ignores Connie going on about Sasha and just stares at the ring, making the bald kid’s voice become background noise. There’s that throb in his chest when he runs his finger over the worn metal; one that makes his throat burn. _‘Bott’_ he reads over and over again _‘Bott Bott Bott’._ Then, he pictures the freckled dork smiling in his head and has to bury his face into the pillow so Connie won’t see his face contort in a desperate attempt not to cry.

Fuck. Why is it so hard for him to get over it? Plenty of people died in the Survey Corps. Other people that Jean had cared about have been savagely murdered by the titans. More than he could count. Marco wasn’t the only star in the sky, but he is the one that shined the brightest. The other stars have long since gone out, disappearing within space and time, their only memory small droplets of dust. Marco’s blinding light keeps reaching him. The day Marco goes out will be the day Jean dies.

“Jean, are you even listening?”

He’s gone out for others. But not Jean. Never for Jean.

For some reason, Connie’s voice seems even more irritating today. He’s always annoying, but right now Jean just wants to take him by the collar and tell him to shut the fuck up. He doesn’t give two damns about potato girl at the moment.

“Not really q-tip head,” he mumbles into the pillow, mouth dry.

Connie sighs. “I’m just…”

But Jean blocks him out again because he can’t find it in himself to care.

As Connie keeps babbling on, taking a seat on the bed opposite to him, Jean finds his mind wandering to how incredibly unfair it is that Eren Jaeger got swallowed by a titan and still managed to live. Why couldn’t have Marco of been part titan—because it seems like today a shit ton of people are—and just pulled himself back together?

 _Because this world is never going to be fair,_ Jean thinks.

That’s right.

It goes like this; he’s caught in this constant loop of things fucked up and things completely fucked up. That’s how Jean’s life has always worked. There are the titans who ravage their lives, a constant looming presence behind the caging walls that supposedly keep humanity safe. Then there’s that fact that Eren Jaeger is probably around the barracks, a titan himself, and carrying on a casual conversation with one of his friends.  
 ****

He had Marco at least--the only thing in his life screwed up in a good way. Because, damn, who else smiled so brightly out of the entire Survey Corps? No smirk could compare to that stupid grin that made Marco’s freckles disappear into a cavern of dimples. Just picturing it makes Jean’s heart ache, so he pushes the image out of his mind and tries to think of other things.

He wonders how the team sent out is doing; hoping that titans haven't been encountered along the way. They are heading to the place where Eren was held captive and tortured by a guy who apparently Corporal Levi had connections with. Jean doesn't know much. Basically, he just got the general gist, because he's not part of that exclusive group. A month Eren was gone, and in that month they managed to break him. It sucked for all of them when he was kidnapped, but Jean knew how much it got to the Corporal and Mikasa and Armin. At least Marco’s dead so he doesn’t have to worry about whether he’s still alive or if he’s in so much pain that he can’t handle it anymore.

Of course, his thoughts go straight back to Marco. Figures.

With a grunt, Jean rolls over and stands up from the bed. Connie is still talking.

“The thing with Sasha is—“

“Just take her out on a damn date,” Jean orders to shut him up. That moron never gets quiet, though, so he keeps on talking much to Jean’s dismay.

“That’s a great idea!” Connie exclaims, eyes wide and happy in a way that almost reminds Jean of Marco. He swallows back the memory of him. “Where should I take her, Jean? We don’t have much time off except for after dinner like this.”

Jean sighs, “wherever.”

Before Connie can say anything else, Jean says he has to go and slips out of the room. As he closes the door behind, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his anger and annoyance. He stomps down the hall, rubbing the ring back and forth almost painfully against the skin of his finger.

He thinks about what Marco would do, because the freckled dork always listened to everyone’s problems and knew how to balance Jean when his emotions got the best of him. For the past three years, a scale has been tipped without Marco there to equalize it, and Jean doesn’t know how to fix the difference in weight.

Jean would really like to take a walk outside, but the sun has nearly set behind the horizon, pulling back the long lazy shadows it casts through the windows. Walking had always been somewhat calming to him, but he hates going outside in the dark. Despises it. He knows there’s nothing out there at night that isn’t out there in the day, but it still freaks the crap out of him. So, he settles for walking around the halls. Maybe if he takes enough laps, the scale will pull a little.

 _Why does everyone annoy me so much?_ He thinks. Hell, even Marco bothered him at first. It’s something he can’t help, and that’s annoying too. As a kid, he was never like this.

He had a good family who never really thought to worry about the titans. He wasn’t bothered through his childhood by the fact that he was trapped in a cage. There was plenty of room, plenty of things to do. Who cared about an ocean a million miles away? He thought the people from the Survey Corps were idiots for exposing themselves to the outside when they didn’t need to. To stay safe was to stay alive.

However, his happy life was tainted by the fact that he was a little more heavy weighted than the other children. It wasn’t his fault that his mother was an amazing cook who always made too much to eat. Food is not something you ever throw away or take for granted in the exterior walls.

He can’t count the amount of times he would come home crying that he wasn’t fast enough to catch anyone in a game of tag, or that the other kids had been taunting him with names again. His mother would take a rag and wipe his face, telling him not to let anything that others said bother him. Jean took her words to heart. That’s probably what started his annoyance issues. Those children made him realize just how judgmental others could be, and by seeing that, everyone presented to him came off as those kids. Did they really need to be making comments on anyone’s appearance or ideals while they were fighting an unbeatable war?

Of course Jean isn’t afraid to voice his beliefs or tell you something’s stupid when the time calls, but he’s never going to comment on something that you can’t fix. No way. Not gonna happen. He’s an asshole, not a douchebag.

Great, now he’s angry again.

He tries to focus on his breathing as he walks, trying to make his footsteps to an imaginary rhythm. His mind just needs to a wander away from everything and everyone so that his body goes on automatic.

 _In and out_ , he imagines Marco’s voice talking him through his temper. _In and out. Breath._

Jean finds himself heading to the gathering room and when he passes he can see Mikasa sitting on the couch, staring at a wall. He thinks back to the time he had a crush on her and how that slowly faded with Marco’s presence. It’s almost amusing that he gave up on Mikasa, one of the most amazing girls he’s ever met in his entire life, for dorky Marco.

He knows why she is so upset. Everyone does. The Corporal and Eren Jaeger had admitted to holding feelings for one another after a long time of sharing small glances and aiding each other to the best of their ability. And although they are trying their very best to keep it under covers, everyone is fully aware.

For a second he considers stopping to talk to her, because he knows what it’s like to lose someone you love, but then decides against it. Mikasa is one of those people you don’t comfort unless you’re really close to her. If she needs help sorting out her emotions, piss-baby Armin will be there for sure.

He can’t help but feel bad for her. It’s obvious she has always loved Eren, and he loves her too, but in a different way. And now she’ll have to stand by his side as he’s with another person. Jean tries to imagine Marco with another person as he turns a corner in the hallway with himself standing in the background, and then decides he can’t do it. It hurts too much to think about Marco, let alone him with another man.

“Come on people, fucking move!”

He hears the shout coming from the end of the corridor, followed by an array of voices responding ‘sir’. The group sent out must be back and by the sound of Corporal Levi’s voice, they have returned with something. Perhaps they have the guy who hurt Eren. Jean imagines they’d let Hanji have some fun with him.

Jean speeds up his walk, anger dissipating into fragrant curiosity. What made his usually calm Corporal’s voice sound so urgent? He doesn’t think he’s ever heard so much emotion in Levi’s voice. This has to be good.

He yells after the group, but nobody turns and he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to break through it. So, he just stops, leans against the wall to try and peek through the crowd. They are carrying something, someone, but it’s impossible to tell who. It’s probably somebody else that those people tortured. Poor fucker. The guy probably wishes he was eaten by a titan right now.

He waits there for a little while, and then decides he’s going to find out what happened later on. It’s not like somebody is going to come out and get him or anything. So, he just turns and decides to go back to his bed, hoping that Connie has left by now.

* * *

It’s about an hour into lying peacefully in his bed that Armin crashes through his door, muddy and covered in blood, blue eyes wide with some sort of emotion that Jean can’t even begin to comprehend.

Jean raises his eyebrows, heart rate picking up as he stares at Armin. He looks as though he’s just seen hell. Had they run into a titan along the way? That would explain the blood and mud and the pure look of horror.

“Armin?” He questions.

The blonde’s voice is strangled when he speaks. Jean wonders who died.

“It’s Marco…”

 What the fuck? Marco? What about Marco?

Armin seems like he’s seen a ghost. Marco. Jean stands up and places his hands on the shorter teenager’s shoulders, shaking him a little to snap him out of the daze he’s fallen into. Marco. Had he heard the name right?  Did Armin really just say Marco?

“Armin?” He asks, “what about Marco? Did you just say Marco?”

He nods.

Jean freezes.

“What about Marco?”

Did they find his other half somewhere? Oh god…

The thought makes Jean want to throw up. If Armin says so, he’s going straight back to his bed and crying for a week. He doesn’t care who sees him. Why is it always a half and never a whole? God, why does Armin look so distraught?

“He’s alive.”

…

What?

Jean doesn’t know what to say. He can hardly even comprehend what in the absolute fuckery Armin is talking about. Marco being alive? His heart falls all the way down to his stomach, twisting around before being pulled out of his skin. This has to be the cruelest joke anyone has ever played on him.

He steps back to stare at Armin. “You’re lying. There’s no way—“

“Follow me,” Armin interrupts.

He does as he’s told, unable to even begin to wrap his mind around how out of character Armin is acting, and that he’s just told him that Marco is alive. The word in his head sounds so weird next to the freckle boy’s name. He really, truly hopes that this isn’t some surprise party and this was the only way they thought to get him into the room.

He is stiff as he walks. Mind blank.

Marco is alive?

To be frankly honest, he doesn’t want to believe it because after about three years Jean had finally been somewhat able to accept the fact that Marco fucking died. Ripped apart by a titan. Body torn in half and left to rot like he wasn’t one of the most wonderful things this shitty world had to offer. Yes, Marco is dead. Deader than dead. There is no way that Marco can be alive after what happened to him.

As he follows behind Armin in the dark, too clean corridors—thanks to their neat freak Corporal—Jean actually contemplates turning around because fuck, how can something like this happen? Marco had been dead. Jean had saw it with his own two eyes, gave the name to the lady in charge of clean up, then went and shattered Marco’s family’s souls by telling them that their son and brother had been killed.

His head hurts so badly, a jar of swirling emotions, but he is so numb that no feeling can even begin to touch him. _Is Armin actually leading me to Marco?_ The thought alone makes his knees weak and jelly. How can this be?

He fingers the ring on his finger, feeling the fading ‘Bott’ inscription. Should he turn around? There’s no way he’s going to be able to handle if Marco’s not actually alive after being told so. Maybe it’s better not to deal with the pain of having him be taken away twice from him.

“Armin?” Jean says. His voice is uncharacteristically weak. “Are you sure Marcos alive?”

He sees the head bob in front of him. “I’m sure, Jean.”

How?...

They are in front of an open door now and Marco can see a crowd of people. He can see Mikasa and the Corporal and Hanji and Eren and several people he can’t remember the names of. Through them, he can somewhat get a glimpse of the person who is supposedly Marco. Jean doesn’t hesitate to push past Armin.

He grabs Eren and moves him over, earning him a small glare from the titan shifter and now he’s standing right over the person, who is staring back at all of them with large, frightened eyes. The guy is so scarred and bruised that Jean almost can’t tell that it’s Marco. His skin is painted with an array of lines varying from large to small, thick to wide, hair longer, almost touching the nape of his neck. But Jean can see those freckles.

_Marco…_

“Marco,” he whispers.

_This is Marco._

He can’t help but reach out to touch him, heart beating so loudly that he’s sure every single person can hear it. If his hand goes through Marco, he’s going to know this is a dream. At least he got to be near Marco again, in a way.

“Jean,” it’s Mikasa. She had a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t touch him…”

But Jean doesn’t listen.

His hand only grazes his check when it happens, the tip of his finger touching a small, fresh cut on Marco’s face. He finds his hand stinging as soon as it makes connect, and hears a sharp scream rip from Marco’s throat.

“Don’t touch me!” His voice makes Jean recoil instantly. “ Don’t touch me! I hate you! I wanna go back, I wanna go back!”

_I hate you_

_I wanna go back_

Marco may be here, but he certainly isn’t ‘alive’.

He is shouting at everyone now, telling them to get back and let him go. Even though he is broken, scarred, and perhaps unsavable, Jean falls to his knees and starts to cry along with Marco, laying his forehead on the bed where he calls his name, even though no one cares. Fuck, Marco is back. This is Marco Bott.

To know someone you love isn’t dead makes your heart do weird things. So, he shouts his name again. He’s told to shut up by Marco, who puts his hands over his ears like a child. Hands grab Jean and pull him away from the bed. Away from Marco. He struggles to get back. He can’t leave him alone. Not like this.

“Stop! I can’t be here! I need to go back!”

It has been three years since the break of the wall. Three fucking years since Marco had been declared legally dead, and Jean told the Bott family that their son wasn’t coming home. Three years since Marco’s mother opened the door, saying her baby’s name, only to find Jean standing in their standard salute with tears running down his face.

Marco isn’t the only one who has been broken.

As he’s pulled out of the room away from Marco, he wails;

“Marco, oh Marco.”

* * *

No.

This isn’t fucking happening.

Marco is alive and he’s not being separated from him.

He attempts to pry the hands off of him so he can run back into the room and be by Marco’s side. There’s nothing more that Jean wants right now than to grab the freckled idiot and never let go. But the Corporal and Mikasa are pulling him away. Eren is following in front to catch him if he does somehow manage to struggle out.

 “Let go of me!” He shouts, reaching towards the open door. “No, Marco! Marco, I have to see him!”

None of them say a word. They just keep pulling him away. He’s crying even harder now, feeling weak as he can’t even move one of the fingers gripping his shoulder. _How can they do this to him?_ Marco is in there, surely broken, and they are forcing him to leave.

God, there are so many thoughts swirling in his head at this moment that it’s near impossible to breath. How could he be here when he saw him ripped to shreds? Was he really with the man who tortured Eren? And why won't they let him go, dammit?

“Let go of me now!”

And they do let go Jean. By throwing him against the wall, hard.

He grunts in pain as his back thumps against the wall, sliding to the ground where he silently starts to whimper. At this moment, he could care less about how pathetic he looks to any of them.

“Jean,” it is Corporal Levi who speaks, staring down at him with an indifferent expression. “Knock it off. I’m fully aware that you are happy Marco is alive, but there are some things we need to discuss with you before we’re able to let you see him.”

Jean sucks in a breath, wipes his eyes. He nods.

“Okay.”

But he really wants to break past them and go right back to that room.

The three of them kneel down in front of him, and he’s still kind of looking for an opening. At the same time, he wants to hear what they have to say. If it means being by Marco, then he will listen, even if he doesn’t agree.

It’s the Corporal who draws in a long breath and speaks first.

“Marco is broken,” he starts, and Jean thinks about how he already knew such an obvious fact. “He’s been conditioned into thinking that the Survey Corps are out to get him by the same man who tortured Eren.”

He sees Eren shift uncomfortably on the side. It’s not a topic that he likes to hear about in any situation, but he’s tolerating it for Jean. Eren’s wringing his hands in that way he does when he’s nervous, focusing on them like they’re the most important thing in the world.

Jean bites his lip, “so he genuinely hates us?”

_Marco hates me._

Marco can’t hate him. Jean wants to murder the man who made the naïve, freckled dork distrust his friends. He wants to destroy him in the same way he destroyed Marco. He wants revenge. He wants blood.

“Yes.”

The Corporal’s terse answer nearly sends him into hysterics.

Mikasa’s hand stops him from falling over the edge. She rests it on his shoulder and provides the comfort that the Corporal can not.

“He may hate us now,” she says. “But we can fix that, Jean.”

“How?”

“There’s always a way,” Eren tries.

Jean knows how incredibly un-fucking-true that is. Because when it comes to people, you can’t just glue them. They’re complex, different, and Marco won’t be put back together like Eren. He saw the way he looked at all of them with recognition, but with that same fear and hatred one would share with a titan. Then, there was the way he slapped his hand away even though he had touched him so many times before. It still stung.

Jean clenches his fists.

“Who…did this to him?”

He will pay.

There’s no way this man will leave this earth unscathed by Jean.

The Corporal sighs and stands. “The information is classified until we have a meeting tomorrow,” for some reason, Jean thinks the Corporal wants to tell him but really can’t. In a way, it is comforting. “It’s going to be at the court where Eren was first held. Be there.”

“I’ll be there,” he says, staring forward past the three and towards the room. God, the feeling of wanting to run in there is like an incurable itch, making his toes and fingers curl with anticipation. He suspects nobody will let him back in until a later time, but that does not stop him from wanting to see Marco.

“Did you tell his family?” Jean asks, his voice low.

He can remember the pure heartbreak on their faces, the way Marco’s mother refused to accept the fact her son had died, and then collapsed as the realization dawned upon her that Marco wasn’t behind Jean, or this wasn’t any kind of sick practical joke. Her son was dead, never to come home.

“No,” the Corporal says, pressing his lips into a tight line. “We cannot tell them anything until Marco’s mental health has been reestablished, or the man who captured him has been apprehended. Both could prove as dangers to the Botts if not fixed.”

How fucking cruel of them. She’s going to have to feel the hollowness that Marco left for a while longer. It’s not fair to his family at all. What’s Marco’s little brother doing right now? Trying to comfort his mother who can never be fully comforted?

But, Jean understands. Returning Marco like this would only pain them more. To see their son, _to hear that he hates them_ , would be too much to bear. Hell, Jean’s mind is still reeling from his words.

Eren goes, “it’s going to be alright, Jean.”

Jean nearly laughs in the little shit’s face. Right now it seems very far from alright, like a whole world away. Marcos alive, that was enough to make the heavens rejoice, but he had been torn apart in a non physical way. So, no, it probably wasn’t going to be okay in the way Eren thought it was.

“Yes,” Mikasa agrees, “Jean, it seems bad, but it will get better. Remember the person who Marco is.”

 ****Jean realizes the reason they’re all trying to give him reasons to hope is because he’s still crying. In fact, he doesn’t think he ever stopped. This whole last twenty minutes has been such a blur and his head is just pounding. It’s still unbelievable that Marco is lying in the room across from him, _breathing,_ surely alive.  
  
 ****

“I will.”

The only thing he can do right now is remember the person Marco was before his ‘death’, because he can’t be by his side to make a new memory. Kind, loving, happy Marco is who he knows and will always associate the name with.

The Corporal turns, “I suggest you get some sleep. Eren, follow me. Mikasa, take Jean to his room and make sure he doesn’t have a breakdown along the way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jean watches as Mikasa pulls her red scarf to cover her mouth, sending a longing look at Eren’s back as he walks with the Corporal. _Don’t do this now, Mikasa. Don’t be hurt when Marco is in there hurt more._

After a moment, she reaches forward and grabs him, tugging his heavy body from the ground. He really has to lean on her for support as the room Marcos in disappears from view. He’s numb, like his soul had been left back there. Maybe he should go retrieve it…

“Jean,” Mikasa breaks his mindset of running back. “Promise me you will stay here and get some sleep. A visit won’t do Marco any good right now. Hanji is trying her best to reverse any physical harm.”

Jean nods dumbly, swallowing to dampen his dry throat. It’s a hard promise to make, but he does it anyway.

As Mikasa drags him through the dark corridors, Jean can’t help but think how impossible this situation actually is. Jean had saw Marco’s limp and lifeless body, the expression of horror frozen on half of his face. The blood. There had been so much blood around him, spilled carelessly across the street.

Then it hits him.

The body hadn’t been Marco’s.

Fuck.  

Upon seeing one of the few people he loved looking so dead, Jean had been overcome by immediate grief with the fact that Marco had been murdered and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Really checking what was left of the body never crossed his mind, and he just carelessly handed out Marco’s name because, after all, he had been missing in action. The dark hair and nearly indistinguishable freckles disappearing with rigor mortis had given him the idea that it had to of been Marco. Jean just assumed when he found the split body…

_You know what they say about assuming; it makes an ass out of you and me._

Marco has been alive this whole time and, because of Jean’s ignorance, tortured to the point of losing himself. If Jean has just stayed calm…his family…they could have looked harder…they could have…

He suddenly feels very sick, guilt riding up on him in a way it never has before. Dammit, Marco has been alive this whole time and they could have done something. Three years he had probably waited, new scars appearing everyday as he slowly disappeared with his hope, crying for somebody, _anybody_ , to come and save him.

“Jean, are you okay? You look pale.”

Jean nods, even though he feels worse than shit.

“It’s just surprising…”

People don’t come back to life in this world. Good things never happen.

“I agree,” Mikasa says. “But we must accept the fact that he is alive.”  
 ****

Jean thinks that’s going to take a while, especially when he can’t touch Marco without him freaking out. All he wants to do is to pull him into his arms and hold the freckled dork in the tightest hug possible, and then kiss him over and over again. But that small brush against his cheek that set Marco off tells Jean that won’t be happening anytime soon. There’s an ache in his chest. Why couldn’t his return be cliché and contrived with him showing up at the door, soaked from a heavy rainstorm where he just pushes Jean up against the wall and takes him until he can no longer breath?

_Because this world isn’t a novel._

So, Jean has to get over it and make do with a broken Marco. He’s still Marco, just more scarred and not completely there.

“Jean,” Mikasa interrupts his thoughts, flipping dark hair over her shoulder. She’s let it get long again over the years. He can remember a time when he thought just how beautiful she was, and he still thinks she is, but nobody can compare to the way he sees Marco. Her smile doesn’t make his heart flutter in weird ways. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shakes his head, only realizing now that they’ve arrived at the men’s barracks. “No. Thank you, Mikasa.”

She stands there for a moment, staring at him, and Jean shifts uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. He knows she’s making sure he’s not going to scurry back to Marco as soon as she leaves. Although he wants to do exactly that, he feels so emotionally drained that he doesn’t think he’ll make it to the end of the hallway.

“Remember your promise?” She asks.

“Yes.”

“We’re leaving for court at eight,” she informs him, which is nice because the Corporal never actually told him the time. “If you’re not out there by 7:50, I will come and drag you out of bed. Understand?”

A small smile pulls on his mouth, despite the fact he’s a total fucking wreck at the moment, and that the tears from before are still wetting his cheeks. He knows when she says this, she means business. By far, Mikasa is stronger than most of them combined. “Of course.”

“Good night, Jean,” she turns and starts walking. “Get some rest. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

He highly doubts that.

For a moment he thinks of going back to the room to see Marco again, but instead he just sighs and opens the door. Hanji will be there for sure. She’s not just going to let him in, especially when she is doing her handiwork. Besides, she would’ve probably had to knock Marco out to begun fixing up his physical injuries.

When Jean steps into the room, he does not expect a welcoming party of about every guy in his division waiting by the door like dogs. They’re all practically salivating, waiting to hear knowledge of their friend’s return.

“Jean,” one of them calls. “Is it true?”

Connie steps forward. “Is Marco really alive?”

Jean doesn’t want to talk about it now. He’s tired and drained and wants nothing more to curl into a ball and sleep until the court hearing tomorrow. But everyone is just being so damn loud.

“Yeah. Marco is alive.” Is his near apathetic response to it all. It sort of makes him angry that some of these people who never knew Marco to begin with and didn’t grieve for his ‘death’ are asking about him.

He pushes through the crowd of guys, who are now whispering about Jean and the whole situation at hand. Some guys are talking about _“were they actually a…you know…a thing?” and “how is this possible?”_

Jean wants to shout several things at them. First, that they were a thing. More than a thing. They were in love; had proclaimed it in many physical and emotional ways in countless places. Then, he wants to say that it isn’t possible, but it happened so they just need to get over it and go to sleep. But they aren't going to do that. They're just going to babble on for a while, aren't they?

He’s usually a really forward person, but right now he doesn’t feel like yelling at all.

Instead, he buries his head in his pillow, blocks out all the sounds, and allows his heavy eyelids to fall with the many emotions that today carried. Jean honestly doesn’t know whether to feel happy, or upset, or hopeful.

It takes him a while to fall asleep.

His last thought before he manages to fall after an hour of listening to everybody shuffle around, muttering in hushed tones as they prepare for bed?

Marco is alive…

_His heart both aches and jumps at the notion._


	2. Courtroom Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I just wanted to say that this chapter describes what happened during Marco's imprisonment, so if it makes any one uncomfortable, I just wanted to warn you!  
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Sleep does not come easy for Jean. It fights him; it wriggles out of his grasp as soon as he manages to get a grip on it, and makes him chase it down. He finds himself waking in a cold sweat about every hour with his legs tangled up in the sheets. For a few moments he lays there, face buried in a pillow and body tingling with simple dread. He’s had a nightmare, but it is impossible to recall what it was about. Now, it’s just a pointless blur of memories.

_But that’s okay._

He’s not too sure that he wants to remember. There’s plenty to worry about now with Marco and the titans. A figment of his imagination shouldn’t be one of them.

Around 6:00, Jean finds himself giving up on any hopes of sleep. He gets out of his warm bed to explore the quiet barracks, because fuck, how could he even think of sleeping when Marco is breathing a few hallways down? He hopes to be quiet enough not to wake anybody. It doesn’t work. When the floor creaks under Jean’s weight, Connie snorts and rolls over.

“Jean?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

Connie. It’s always Connie who has to open his damn mouth. His voice is muffled with sleep, and Jean can tell he’s only half there. Good. He doesn’t want to talk. In fact, he still wants to tell Connie to shut the fuck up from yesterday's events.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he lies. “I don’t see why you give a shit about my shits.”

Connie hums something, and then lies back down, not bothering with anymore stupid questions. Mikasa probably told everyone to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t doubt it. She’s been known to take overprotectiveness to a whole new level when the situation calls. Jean has seen it more than enough times with Eren and Armin; especially Eren. Now, she’s directing her attention towards him and although it sort of feels nice to have someone looking out for him, he really just wants to be by the person he loves.

He leaves the room with an awkward limp in his step. His legs are raw and aching from the straps of his uniform. In the whole chaos that occurred the night before, his confused soaked brain hadn’t even registered the tight leather belts. They’re going to leave angry red lines across his skin, comparable to the ones from the pull of 3D maneuver gear. Sighing, he loosens the straps to give his skin room to breathe, vaguely wondering if Marco’s body has marks from binding. The thought makes him angry; to think he was held against his will, unable to move, body constricted by tight chains. It downright pisses him off, in fact.

_Marco…_

To think he’s alive still shakes Jean in every way, shape, and form. Not once has he ever considered the fact Marco could be alive and somewhere else, perhaps calling his name— _Jean?Jean! Please come save me! I can’t handle this_ —to come and rescue him. The thought burns his soul, hot and scalding. They could’ve saved him sooner…he could’ve done something…

 _Dammit_. His life is so unbelievably screwed up. First, he’s born into a world ravaged by titans who murder for the sake of killing; destroying homes and families. He can deal with that. It’s somewhat normal. Then he had to go and fall in love with Marco Bott; the dorkiest (and of course loveliest) person on this entire planet. That was okay too, though. But having Marco taken away from him, only to be brought back with the reason that he was never dead, proves Jean’s notion on his constant loop of things fucked up and completely fucked up. It’s such a strong theory that he considers getting it published.

By the time he stops walking, Jean finds himself by Marco’s room, unconsciously pulled there by his longing heart. It’s dark; the hallways are cold and creaky, with the only source of light being the dull glow of the rising sun. He knows without a doubt that this is where Marco is held, even though all the doors are similar in placement and looks. It’s the seventh one down from where he enters.

He lifts his hand to knock, pulling in a deep breath.

Then, he drops it down.

Jean leans against the door and sits on the ground like he’s in some sort of crappy novel, face burning with nerves. He knows the real reason he’s not walking through the door right now. He’s scared of facing Marco again. Terrified because the person he loves hates him, and that makes him shit his pants more than any titan ever could.

Marco can say anything. That he’s bad at sex. That he’s a total asshole. That sometimes his temper is so annoying, that Marco considers punching him out just to teach him a lesson. Anything but _I hate you._ He’ll take all those insults a thousand times a day if it meant that Marco still loved him. _I hate you!_ It feels like his heart is being stung by vicious hornets.

He doesn’t want to hear that again.

But he’s going to have to deal with it sometime.

Not now. For now he’ll leave Marco alone. Although he wants nothing more to barge in there, it now seems much more practical to wait until he’s been cleared.  Besides, he promised Mikasa to stay out. He doesn’t break promises.

_Such sad excuses…_

Maybe if he just looked in…

God, this is confusing.

He turns up onto his knees, grabs the door knob, and pulls it open. It makes a small noise, hinges rusty from years of disrepair. Jean cringes. He doesn’t want to wake the other boy, no matter how much he wants to see him.

There’s a candle taking its last hour sitting by Marco’s beside, casting eerie shadows against Marco’s face. Jean’s stomach sinks faster than a downed titan. Marco doesn’t look any better than before, save for how the blood has been cleaned from his skin, and now his leg is slung above the bed, other parts of his body also wrapped neatly. He still has the scars. The dark circles under his eyes. The angry bruises. The long hair. And now the low light makes the hollowness in his cheeks all more prominent.

Hanji is no longer there. She must’ve slipped away a while ago after she finished fixing up Marco.

 _He looks awful,_ Jean thinks. _He looks like a skeleton._

He’s a whole different person from the bubbly, adorable Marco he knows, but he’s still Marco.

Jean wants to go sit by his side and try to repair him, but his mind is entranced by the sleeping boy’s rising and falling chest. Breathing. Marco is breathing.

He still doesn’t enter. By being here alone, he’s treading in highly dangerous waters. If he’s caught actually in the room, there’s a high chance he could be assigned cleaning duty for the next week as punishment. That means time taken away from Marco.

With a sigh, Jean closes the door, sitting back against it. He wonders how his life could’ve gotten to such a point. The person he loves had been torn apart by a titan, killed by a merciless killing machine, only to be brought back.

How the fuck does that just happen?

It’s so surreal that Jean’s wondering if he’s died and gone to some hellish heaven. He’s in the fire, can feel the heat, but it doesn’t actually burn.

He sits there for a while, thinking of what he’s going to say when he sees Marco next. What can he say? _Oh, sorry I assumed you were dead, Marco. My bad. I love you._

Yeah, Marcos not going to appreciate that, especially considering he hates Jean now. There’s a pang in his chest. How can he even begin to blame Marco for feeling that way towards them? For three years he’d been tortured and no one searched for him. Everyone accepted his death as a show that even the best trained can be destroyed.

Jean rests his forehead in his hand. He had been the one to find him; to declare his death. _“What’s his name?”_ they asked. _“Marco Bott,”_ he responded. Like he was some sort of common ball, Jean threw his name.

People grieved and because of him, there’s a family who doesn’t know what happened to their loved one. That was worse than anything. When there’s room for hope, it always manages to weave its way into the hearts of those who wondered.

“Jean, what are you doing here?”

He jumps at the voice coming out of nowhere. When he lifts his head, Mikasa is standing in front of him like a ghost appearing out of thin air. Damn, they should really get her a bell, because this happens a lot more often than it really should.

“What?” He asks like an idiot.

She’s looking down at him with a scrutinizing gaze. It makes Jean want to recoil. He shouldn’t be here. He’s supposed to be getting rest in his bed for the court hearing today.

He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

She’s tapping her foot, impatient. Jean never considered the fact somebody might find him outside of Marco’s room. The Corporal and Mikasa have always been known to be early risers; both believing sleep to be a waste of time. He bets that Eren is still snoring in bed. The little shit gets to sleep in on selective nights. How unfair.

“Did you try and talk to him?” Her voice is insistent. Mikasa wants to make sure he hasn’t gone and fucked up. That, after all, has the capability of hurting Marco even more. Jean isn’t stupid. He would never purposely hurt Marco. Ever. The thought of him in pain, of being tortured, makes Jean sick to his stomach.

But Jean indirectly hurt Marco. Maybe he is an idiot.

Mikasa sighs. “It’s not helping to worry.”

It may not be good, but he’s still going to do it. When you love someone, it’s okay to worry. Mikasa should know that very well.

When Jean doesn’t respond, Mikasa sighs and sinks down next to him, curling her knees up against her chest. She stares out the window in front of them. The sun has barely started to rise. Jean hates this time of morning. The sky is a fading black at the top, pulling into soft, lighter colors. It’s not night, nor day.

“I know it’s hard,” she says. Jean knows she knows. There had been a time where she thought Eren to be dead, and she had gone through the aftermath of him being tortured. It’s just Jean’s situation is a lot worse. This isn’t a day or month. This is three years of the same crap.

Jean rests his head back against the door. The wood is splintery, digging into his scalp. “It’s my fault, Mikasa. I gave away his name like a fucking coupon. I didn’t even try-“

“Stop,” she’s glaring at him with hard grey eyes; a look that reminds him exactly of the Corporal Levi’s reprimanding gaze. It’s enough to get Jean to shut up. Nobody messes with a look as threatening as that.

Maybe he should learn the look for when Connie talks. It’ll be a good, useful tool for when he doesn’t want to hear about Sasha.

“Jean,” she continues, “anybody would’ve thought it was Marco. He was missing in action. If you’re self-blaming, you’re only going to hurt Marco more.”

A dry sound escapes his throat, and he can’t tell whether it’s a chuckle or a sob. It’s not going to hurt Marco. Jean has to pay for his actions until he receives forgiveness, which may never happen. Fuck, there’s no way Marco will say ‘it’s okay’ in this situation, because it’s really, really not.

“I need to feel this,” Jean admits. He stares at the clean floor, wishing his life is as free of dirt as the tile. “I can’t let my actions go unchecked. You can’t hurt an angel without some sort of consequence.”

The hand hits his cheek before he has a chance to react. It sends him skidding across the ground, planting him square on his ass when he bumps against the wall of the hall. He cups his face, jaw bone throbbing. There’s going to be one hell of a bruise. Stupid Mikasa with her stupid strength.

“What the hell?” He groans. Great, just another shitty thing he has to worry about in his shitty life. Face pain has been added to the list of things he shouldn’t, but has to, care about. He wonders if Marco will ask about it. Probably not. How can he even think about something like that?

“Shut up,” Mikasa is standing now, shaking slightly. It is hard to tell if she’s upset, angry, or both. “Don’t blame yourself for something that’s not your fault. Instead of loathing in a ball of self-pity, can’t you be happy that Marco has been given back to you?”

“Mikasa-”

“Stop taking it for granted!” She shouts, surprising Jean with the amount of emotion in her voice. He worries for a second that she might wake Marco. “Sometimes good things happen, and when they do, we can’t just put them off as a ring of luck.”

He bites his lip and mutters out, “I feel so bad, Mikasa.”

Her expression is unsympathetic. “I know you do. Every single one of us does. He’s our friend too, Jean. Stop acting like you’re the only one who knows him. We all want to help.”

She’s right.

Jean’s not the only person Marco has. Maybe before his ‘death’, Marco only had Jean as a lover, but he got along with everybody in the Survey Corps; swelling their hearts with his idiotic optimism.

For the small amount of time Jean has known Marco to be alive, he’s focused on the hurt, the torture, and the guilt, when in reality he should be thinking of ways to make Marco better. He should be making a glue to put the vase back together; sorting out the pieces to make it easier. Scratch his thought from earlier. He is a fucking idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, feeling the small urge to cry. “You’re right.”

He should remember Marco for he was, because that is who he still should be.

It’s hard for Jean to say. He’s a person who argues with everyone, stubborn, it’s become a chore to actually agree. But he does it anyway, because Mikasa is his friend; has become a rock for him to latch onto.

“Thanks,” she simply says, unclenches her fists, and draws in a deep breath. Great, he’s gotten Mikasa Ackerman worked up; the most stable person he knows—besides the Corporal. “Now, come on, we have a court date.”

Jean stands up, ready to leave, when a thought occurs to him.            

“Who’s going to stay with Marco?” He asks. The thought of leaving him alone is incredibly stupid and makes him nervous.  He doesn’t want just anyone to watch him. It has to be someone close; someone who can calm him down without scaring him. But everyone in the Survey Corps has the tendency to be intimidating and brash (not to mention stupid).

“Armin,” Mikasa answers.

That’s right, Armin is a piss baby.

Jean follows Mikasa, sending a final, longing look at the door that separates him from Marco. He wishes he can stay; wants Marco to see him when he wakes so he’ll know everything is okay, but Jean needs— _thirsts_ —to know who did this.

That man, whoever the hell he is, will pay.

* * *

The courthouse is as large and foreboding as Jean remembers it; a beacon of death where, unless you have solid connections, a harsh sentence is sure to follow. As he walks into the building, staring suspiciously at the judges on their high podiums, he wonders why the fuck they are having a _court hearing_ instead of a simple meeting.

Three years ago, Jean stood in this same courthouse, watching as everyone pitted against Eren; terrified at the thought that a person, a _soldier_ , could be a titan.  Some screamed for him to be shot on the spot, calling him a monster. Eren shouted back to trust him as the people he called his friends and the Survey Corps argued that a titan shifter could be a valuable asset to their side of the war.

Jean had just sat there towards the back, quiet and unwilling to pitch his two cents.  This wasn’t a simple argument. Court is court, especially when everyone of higher power is so corrupt.

Still, he remembers Marco leaning over to him and saying, _“I…I think they should keep Eren alive. He’s a friend and a titan. Couldn’t he be helpful?”_

Jean had responded with a terse, _“I don’t know.”_

Luckily for him, Eren had connections, and when a gun was pointed at his face, Corporal Levi came to save his sorry ass by kicking it. Boy did he get the shit beat out of him, even if it was just for show. Mikasa certainly believed it. If Armin hadn’t been there, she would’ve ripped the Corporal’s throat out.

He is seated across from where he was last time, and there’s a pang in his heart, because he’s here for Marco instead of shit-eating Eren Jaeger. Mikasa and Corporal Levi sit in the seats next to him, with Hanji and Commander Erwin a row behind. Eren is by the Corporal, hand nearly touching Levi’s. He doesn’t feel comfortable being here. This has never been a place of good memories.

“Look at those swine,” Mikasa mutters, hands clutching her pants. “Bastards. They’re not going to let Marco stay without a fight.”

Jean’s breathing skips.

His eyes go wide.

_What?_

_So…this is what it’s about?_

“We might not be able to keep him?”

Jean can hear his heart shatter in his voice.

Mikasa is staring at him like he’s an absolute idiot, and then realizes that he was never actually told what the court date was about. So she lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and says, “Jean, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

How can she say that?

He just got Marco back. There’s no way he can lose him now.

“Jean,” the Corporal grabs his attention. “If anything is said you disagree with, don’t say a single word. _Understand?_ We don’t need you to mess everything up like a certain other idiot did before.”

Jean nods dumbly when Eren interjects.

“What?” shut up Eren. “With all due respect, sir, they would’ve pointed the gun at me either way.”

The Corporal rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything further.

Jean is still in shock. _We can’t lose Marco,_ he thinks. Somewhere, deep down, he knew there was a catch. Nothing in their world is just given to them. Power, love, friendship—they are all things everyone has to work for. Makes sense Marco’s return happens to be one of them.

There’s a sharp pounding that grabs everyone’s attention and gets them looking towards the front of the building. A fat man, stuffed to the brink with lavish foods they’ll never know of, sits on the tallest podium. He leans back, resting his hands on his stomach. The other judges are just for show.

“Court is in session,” he says, obviously bored. His voice pisses Jean off. _How dare he act like this isn’t a big deal._ “The case being discussed today is that of Marco Bott…”

“He’s not just a case,” Jean whispers. Mikasa elbows his side, hushing him.

“...speaking first is Squad Leader Hanji Zoe.”

Hanji stands and shuffles out from behind Jean, nearly falling over the Corporal when she hops over the seat. She smirks at Jean and says, “Your cheek looks like it hurts,” before jumping over the railing and presenting herself to the judge with their standard salute.

Jean only dimly registers that his face hurts from the bitch slap she threw at him. It’s such a great thing Hanji reminded him of it, because now he has to sit nervously in pain.

“At your service,” Hanji bows. She does an almost good job of keeping the bitterness hidden in her voice.

The judge ignores her small misconduct. You are to salute, not bow. “Please review Marco Bott’s injuries.”

She raises her eyebrows, a small smile pulling at her lips. “You see, sir, this is not an Eren Jaeger case where he was there for a month,” Jean can see Eren shift uncomfortably, and the Corporal puts a hand on his leg for reassurance. Hanji is playing with the judge. “Marco Bott was held there for three long years. The injuries would take around a week to list if I were to be thorough.”

Jean hopes that she is just exaggerating.

“Then please state the most important ones. We don’t want to keep this long winded.”

“Physical or mental?” She asks.

“Physical first,” he tells her.

Then, Hanji begins speaking perfectly from memory, not bothering to look at any type of notes. Jean’s body is rattling with nerves. This is where he discovers what actually happened to Marco.

“With my studies, I have managed to conclude the following:

Marco Bott had been drugged with a very potent serum. He had bite marks on his body representing human teeth, as well as several hundred small lacerations on his body. His leg had been broken several times, so I had to reset it in place.”

She’s out of breath by the time she’s finished.

_Drugged…bitten…cut…broken…_

The judge seems like he can’t care less, as though Marco Bott is nothing more than a case; a chore. What a fucking bastard. He’s the same one from three years ago who nearly agreed with the cowardly jury that Eren needed to die.

“Mental effects?”

Jean’s heart clenches and he finds himself reaching for Mikasa’s hand. He needs something to latch onto right now, or else he’s going to fall. The man fucking bit Marco. He fucking put his mouth on his body and bit him, then proceeded to break his goddamn leg. To be frankly honest, Jean is so passed pissed that he just feels incredibly numb. He can feel the blood rise rapidly to his head.

Mikasa squeezes his hand to reassure him, but it does not calm Jean at all.

He knows Hanji is not going to lie.

“Marco Bott is no longer Marco Bott.”

There it is.

If Jean isn’t holding on to Mikasa’s hand, there’s no doubt he will be lost. His head and heart seem to fly elsewhere. _Marco is no longer Marco._ He had somehow known that fact even though everybody else denied it. But hearing it confirmed? It’s like losing him all over again.

Lose him once, shame on him.

Lose him twice, and now you’re an idiot for believing there would actually be a chance.

The judge leans forward, suddenly intrigued. “What are you saying, Hanji Zoe?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment. Jean wonders what the hell she is doing, because it really looks as though she’s digging Marco a new, fresh grave.

She sighs. “Marco Bott has been conditioned to distrust the Survey Corps and everyone in it.”

_By who, though?_

Jean needs to know.

There’s silence.

And then:

“We need to get rid of him!”

Everyone’s attention turns toward a man wearing a military brigade uniform. Figures. They can never leave their shitty two cents out of anything. Jean considers jumping out of his seat and decking his hairy face, but Mikasa is squeezing his hand rather tightly, eliminating chances for escape.

“Yes! I agree! We can’t have an enemy when we have the titans to worry about! It’ll be easier to get rid of him.”

There’s another person who agrees with him. And another. Soon the whole courthouse is abuzz with cowardly pigs, and Jean finds himself getting angrier and angrier by the second. How dare these bastards think they can play with Marco’s life? The people throwing in their opinions have never even seen a titan, let alone known what it’s like to find your lover torn in half.

The Corporal stands without permission, leaping over the railing to join Hanji. Jean hears Eren mutter, “oh god.” They all know what he’s like in court. On his worst days, he’s a manipulative asshole. Jean leans forward.  He wants to know what kind of brilliant plan the survey corps has thought up this time.

Levi is so short and small that the courtroom should swallow him, but his confidence is unwavering, easily allowing him to size up everyone.

The jury shuts their mouths when they see him. It’s better not to speak. With Corporal Levi, there is no winning.

“So, you are all saying we should kill a teenage boy just because he was tortured?”

Kill? How the hell can they kill Marco for being alive?

Some idiot tries to speak against him. There’s always that one person.

“We can’t spend our money on a broken boy!”

Jean clenches his fists. No, they can’t spend their time protecting these spoiled bastards. If they don’t care enough to keep Marco alive, why should Jean care enough to push them out of the way when they get in trouble? May a titan eat them all.

“Tch,” the Corporal shakes his head, sending the man a terrifying glare. “You cowards want to kill a boy so you won’t lose a loaf of bread? Disgusting. You’re no different than before. Maybe I should just allow titans to ravage humanity instead of doing my job. Does that sound good to you?” Everyone stares as the Corporal straightens his jacket. “That’s what you’re doing right now; feigning fair jurors so your pathetic life has some sort of small purpose.”

The judge points at the Corporal. “Corporal Levi Ackerman, you were not called to stand.”

Levi shrugs.

That’s good. At least somebody cares enough to argue to the court.

“We don’t run this court the way you want it,” the Corporal argues. “You want to kill a young boy for selfish reasons? I should kill you for even sputtering such a notion. It is ridiculous we are even here to discuss this.”

The judge lets him stand there. A threat from Humanity’s Strongest isn’t something to take lightly; especially considering most of the court is on his bad side.

“Now,” he folds his arms. “Is everyone ready to listen to reason?”

Hanji raises her hand. “Me!”

Jean looks back at Commander Erwin. There’s a small smile pulling on his handsome face. It must be going to plan. How the hell do they manage such intricate works without getting their asses handed to them? If that were Jean, he would go; _“fuck you all”_ before stomping out because he can’t handle the pressure.

The judge and jury mutter disgruntled okays. Jean lets out a sigh of relief, the nervousness retreating a little when he realizes that everyone in the Survey Corps is not letting Marco go. Court be damned.

“They know what they’re doing,” Eren whispers. Jean knows he’s trying to comfort him, but it’s already so painfully obvious. Of course they do. It’s become essential to living.

“Yeah,” Jean says. For once he doesn’t argue with Eren.

“Will Hanji Zoe and Levi Ackerman please take a seat?” The judge requests, glaring at the two higher-ups. “Commander Erwin Smith is called to speak.”

There’s a small, rare smirk pulling at Levi’s lips as he hops back over the railing and takes a seat. Hanji is smiling brightly at Erwin as he makes his way more formally to the stands, actually using the gate door instead of disrespecting the court.

“Good job,” Jean mutters to Hanji and Levi.

Hanji ruffles his hair.

Levi says, “I always love arguing, but it’s all the more fun when I have a brat to kick around.”

Eren elbows the Corporal in the side, and Jean can see the small flash of anger and jealousy across Mikasa’s face. He squeezes her hand. If she’s there for him, he can be there for her too. It’s almost relieving to watch them screw around a little when they are in a situation this tense.

“Commander Erwin Smith, please explain the situation at present and what you expect of its outcome.” The judge tells him.

Commander Erwin salutes, all prim and proper because that’s what he’s known for. He follows the rules while breaking them. Levi and Hanji just break the rules.

This is it. This is where Jean figures out who hurt Marco.

The Commander flashes a dazzling smile before speaking towards the court. “Marco Bott, kidnapped three years ago by Kenny Ackerman—”

_Kenny Ackerman. Kenny fucking Ackerman._

That is the man who will die by Jean’s hands.

Jean doesn’t notice how hard he’s gripping Mikasa’s hands until she has to tell him to loosen up a little.

Kenny Ackerman.

“—was, during the duration of that time, subjected to both physical and mental abuse, and was conditioned to distrust the Survey Corps. I believe we can deprogram him to become a normal soldier again.”

The judge leans forward, interest piqued. “Explain.”

Jean wants to know too.  
 ****

“While it’s going to be a tedious task, we might have the cure.” _There’s a cure?_ “Jean Kirstein.”

Jean freezes.

What?

_Holy shit did he really just say I’m the cure?_

Out of all things, he never considers himself to be a viable cure for Marco. What the hell is Commander Handsome getting at? Currently, Jean is completely lost on the subject, mouth gaping a little too wide.

“Is Jean Kirstein here?” The judge asks. Jean barely registers Erwin saying yes and his name being called.

He doesn’t understand how he can help somebody who hates him, but apparently the Survey Corps thinks he’s going to be useful. Maybe they’re just saying this to fix the court. Yeah. That’s probably it.

“Will Jean Kirstein please stand?”

Shaky and still bridled with rage, Jean pushes himself out of the seat, letting his hand slip out of Mikasa’s. He takes a deep breath and says, “I am Jean Kirstein.”

“How are you going to ‘cure’ Marco Bott?” The judge asks. There’s a smirk to his voice; Jean can hear it. He wishes he could answer the question and slap it away, but it is impossible when he doesn’t even know himself.

Jean’s mouth is dry. He’s never felt this nervous talking to somebody. His mind has gone blank, heart pounding loud. Scanning the courtroom, Jean can see that everyone is staring at him, expecting an answer. Is this their plan? If so, it’s a really shitty one considering how he just froze up.

He stares down at Commander Erwin, calling for help in his head. The tall man just sends him a reassuring smile.

That’s right.

This is all for Marco.

This is so Jean will be able to kill the man who tortured his friend.

He takes a shaky breath, finds his voice and speaks.

“I, Jean Kirstein, used to be in a sort of relationship with Marco Bott. I believe that by reminding him that we used to trust each other so much, it will be possible for him to regain himself.”

It’s a really bad excuse. Jean can hear the Corporal scoff on his side—a sound that makes his nerves return—and mutter something about him being really shitty at being put on the spot. Of course he is. Arguments are his thing, but not ones pertaining to the life of the one he loves.

Luckily, Erwin is as suave as ever, easily fixes his excuse.

“Jean Kirstein has always been closer to Marco than everyone else,” Erwin tells the judge. “By using Jean, we could easily get through to Marco Bott. Although it will take time, I think we can regain Marco for the soldier he once was.”

 _Soldier,_ Jean thinks. _We’re not worrying about his wellbeing. We’re thinking of the fact he could possibly combat titans again._

The thought makes him sick to his stomach, but it works with the judge. The fat man sighs and bangs his gavel against the podium.

“I declare that Marco Bott shall remain in the custody of the Survey Corps. Any objections?”

The jury keeps their mouths shut, thankfully.

A giant weight is lifted off Jean’s chest.

“We got him,” Eren says. There’s a large smile on his face.

“Did you doubt us, Jaeger?” The Corporal feigns hurt, which gets Eren stuttering. Jean can’t help but laugh at how flustered Eren gets. He finds himself smiling and nudges at Mikasa to smile too. She needs to get over Eren.

The relief he feels is overwhelming. Now, all he has to worry about is actually fixing Marco and putting an end to Kenny Ackerman; a man who has the last name of two of humanity’s strongest soldiers. It’ll be tedious, but he may be able to do it.

Words always sound better in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to give Mikasa and Jean a strong friendship dynamic. I feel like they could bond over their experiences.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> My tumblr is:  
> http://midnightoflight.tumblr.com/  
> Feel free to message me if you have any questions~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean learns that the new recruits can be douchebags. Also, there's something not right going on.

           “Marco, get off of him!”

            There’s shouting in the room, loud and desperate as they try to disengage Marco’s grip around Armin’s neck. The blonde has three scratches going down the side of his face, deep and bleeding, but the dark bruise settling under his eye is equivalent to the one Mikasa gave Jean—painful.

            “Marco!”

            Armin is trying to push him away, and it should be easy. Marco is bed ridden, leg slung up. Even if he is a piss baby, Armin should be able to get Marco off him no problem. They all know the reason he isn’t doing anything. He doesn’t want to hurt Marco more than he already is. He had been left to watch Marco. Failing something so simple would be a blow to his almost nonexistent pride.

            Jean puts his hands over Marco’s and pulls them away from Armin, allowing the smaller boy to sputter back and gasp for air. Marco is shouting for Jean to let him go, attempting to wring away from him in order to get his hands around Jean’s own neck. They know Marco is unstable, but they haven’t realized until now that he is this bad.

            “Marco,” Jean attempts to soothe him; takes Marco’s face in his hands to force him to look and see that he’s home. That nothing else can hurt him. Jean won’t let anything mark his fallen angel again, because he already lost Marco once. He will not lose him a second time—especially to a lonely emotion called fear. “Marco look where you are,” _god why are my hands and voice shaking so much,_ “You’re at home.”

            There’s a low, scratchy laugh followed by another long array of yelling as Marco reaches towards Jean, fingers clasping and unclasping for reach around his neck. It’s nearly surreal to Jean—the fact that Marco Bott is trying to choke him. He nearly wants to say that this person in front of him isn’t his best friend and lover, but those freckles always pull him back. Always makes him want to touch and count every damn one even in the worst of situations.

            “Go to hell!” Marco screeches. His too long hair sticks to his forehead, matted down by sweat.

            Jean’s heart clenches.

            “Marco, please come back to me.”

            His voice is quiet. In some universe or stupid novel, this would work. He wishes Marco’s eyes would clear, eyebrows rising at the dawning realization that he is in fact safe and sound. He wants Marco to cry out and latch his arms around him, that way Jean has an excuse to never let go.

            But in a lifetime like this, it’s not going to happen. It’s like they are on this broken road that is sometimes held together by fading concrete. They are a construction team, trying to mend the patches, but the road is way too long and hard.

            And now, a bridge is out.

            “Who should I come back to?” Marco bites out. He punches and then kicks his good leg, trying to escape. Deep down, Jean knows that he should just let Marco go, but it’s hard when all he wants to do is crawl and lay right next to him.

            Jean swallows. “Don’t you remember me?”

            Jean knows that everyone in the room is watching, but he could care less. He pays no attention to the interrogation that Hanji is giving Armin, or the words of comfort his friends try and provide. Levi is standing behind him, close, though he feels no intimidation for once. Right now, he’s solely focused on the boy in front of him.

            There’s an almost inhuman sound that leaves Marco. It’s like a feral cross between a laugh and a sob that not even a titan could match. It’s heart breaking, but the words that Marco says next leave Jean completely shattered.

            “Of course I do,” Marco glares. “You’re the bastard who ripped my heart out!”

            Jean stops.

            _What?_

He pulls away a little, falling back towards Mikasa and Eren. It’s really hard for him to comprehend what Marco just said. Jean may have joked around with their relationship a little, but they never actually got into any fights, let alone one that left Marco heart broken and crying. Jean swallows loudly. It has to be the work of Kenny Ackerman…it has to be…

            Mikasa grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. For a second, Jean almost pulls away. It feels sort of awkward to be holding hands with someone who isn’t the person you love, more so when he’s in the same room with said person. Although, they had done it at court when Jean was a wreck.

Still is, apparently. He hasn’t even noticed he’s crying until now. Since when is when he so emotional?

            “Just ignore him,” Mikasa says. “He’s not in his right mind.”

            Jean looks as Marco hits his hands against the bed, cackling a little as he starts to mock Levi’s short stature. For a second, Jean thinks he’s going to have to step between the two, because the Corporal is giving him that intimidating look.

            But then Eren grips Levi’s shoulder, forcing him to turn away from the broken boy.

            Jean sighs in relief, mentally thanking Eren because he’ll never say it out loud.

            “Come on,” Mikasa nods towards the hallway. “Let’s get something to eat. You’re probably starving.”

            And then she’s pulling him out of the room. Away from Marco. The group in the room is staring at them, Eren’s eyebrows raising as he stares at their entwined hands. Jean knows what he’s thinking and wants to tell him to get his fucking head out of the gutter. Everything between them is totally platonic, especially considering that Mikasa has feelings for Eren.

            Jean wants to fight and go back to Marco. He wants to fix him—to glue all of the pieces back together. But Mikasa is strong and he feels so weak after Marco’s harmful words. _“You’re the bastard who ripped my heart out!”_ What the hell is that even supposed to mean?

            He lets himself be dragged down the hall. There’s something about Marco’s words that stick and make Jean not want to go back. Even though he loves Marco so much hi heart is already swelled to the point where a single prick of some words could cause it to implode on itself. It’s a tentative black hole.

            “Ignore what he says. He’s really messed up, Jean.”

            “Yeah.”

            Marco is really messed up because Jean’s an idiot who called him dead, which led to nobody searching for him. Then, there’s the fact that Jean’s love isn’t enough to fix him. It doesn’t matter if Erwin believes it.

            This is going to be a little hard to ignore. Especially considering he’s going to have to _see_ Marco everyday if he wants even the slightest chance at him recovering. Okay, sure, he’s really messed up. That’s not the part that bothers him. He can deal with messed up. What he can’t cope with is the utter hatred in Marco’s eyes; the ones that used to teem with adoration and happiness and just shit, how could anybody lay a hand on a person with eyes like _that?_

            Mikasa keeps her hold tight on Jean’s hand. His vision is blurred with tears, actually, but he doesn’t have the strength to wipe them away.  He doesn’t know where she’s taking him. To be completely honest, he feels like a pliant rag doll. His emotions have been played too much for his mind not to be ripped apart.

            So, he just lets Mikasa lead, because he doesn’t give a fuck.  

* * *

 

            Okay, maybe he should’ve actually given a couple fucks. Because now, they’re in the cafeteria and surrounded by plenty of other soldiers; all of whom give Jean sympathetic looks and some might even be glaring, but that might be because his cheeks are still tear stained and Mikasa is literally plowing through everyone.

            “Why are we here?” Jean asks. He can tell that his own voice sounds tired. Hell, his whole being is tired.

            “You haven’t eaten properly in a couple of days, Jean. If you want to help Marco, then you’re going to need your strength. We can’t let you look like a scrawny skeleton when we’re trying to convince him not to look like that.”

            “He’s always been into lean men.”

            “That’s nice, but you’re still eating.”

            Jean sighs and can’t help but wonder when Mikasa started caring _this_ much. When he was still interested in her, she never batted a single eyelash, but now that Eren is off limits, she’s using his pain as a kind of rebound. That’s what it feels like. There’s a tiny pang in his chest at the thought because before, if Eren hadn’t been there then neither would she.

            He swallows.

            “What’s on the menu?”

            “Bread and potato soup,” Mikasa answers, pulling them in line. They skip a couple of new recruits who shouted at them to get back, but one look from Mikasa sends them stepping back. Man, he really _really_ has to learn how to do that.

            But that can be saved for later. At the moment, he needs to learn how he’s going to get near Marco without him screaming.

            Mikasa takes a plate full of food and shoves it towards him. Then, she yanks Jean towards an empty table in the back of the cafeteria. She sits him—wow, Mikasa has been doing a lot for him—and stares until he finally takes a bite of the food. It’s bland as hell, but it feels good to finally get something into his mouth.

            “Good?” There’s a small smile on Mikasa’s face.

            “Eh, could be better. I think my favorite meal will always be mold covered potatoes with a side of bug filled bread. That was delicious.”

            “You’re forgetting that one time Armin found a worm in his soup.”

            Jean recalls. He can remember how Armin lifted his spoon to find this giant night crawler dangling from it. When he screamed, most of their supervisors came rushing in because that was the type of shout you reserved for a titan. It’s especially funny, because that night Jean and Marco had snuck out—after a lot of coaxing and begging on Jean’s part—and collected worms to put in Armin’s bed. His reaction the next morning was even better.

            He laughs at the memory, though it hurts a little because it’s associated with Marco.

            “I think sometime we should stick worms in something of his again,” Jean tells her. “I mean, come on, I still have to get back at him for the time he made all my underwear into capes and had every single boy in the barracks wear them.”

            Mikasa raises her eyebrows, “How did he—”

            “Don’t ask. He’s such an evil little genius.”

            He manages to scarf down half his plate when a group of three guys came across his vision. They stand at the end of the table, giving him an expression that should scare him, but he’s already seen enough of Mikasa and Levi for it to have no effect. They are obviously younger than him, bodies still wiry and faces underdeveloped, but they are giving off this essence of pride that is kind of impressive.

            “That’s supposed to be my food,” the boy in the front says. His nose is crooked, and Jean thinks that it happened because the kids a dick. “You skipped my friends and I and took the last plate. Just because you’re older than us doesn’t mean anything.”

            Jean should really just shove the plate towards the kid, because he knows just how hard training as a new recruit is. But he’s never been one to back down from a fight and all these pent up emotions from Marco’s return has made him insanely irritable.

            So, he takes a spoonful of food and shoves it in his mouth. “Listen, kid, I know since you’re new here that you think it’s cool and that all your little friends will be impressed that you stood up to Jean and Mikasa. But, I haven’t even seen your skinny ass in the boys barracks before, so don’t think you can walk up and tell me what’s right and wrong.”

            Jean’s trying to figure it out for himself. It’s always been this and that and this and that with him; never black and white or easy. The same thing happened when he was sorting out his feelings for Marco, because while Marco had the sweetest personality and an even sweeter ass, Jean couldn’t figure out if taking a chance and ruining their relationship would be the best course of action.

           His heart pangs as he thinks about the night he professed. They’d been sitting outside, the sun setting over the horizon and he can just remember how perfect the shadows casted over Marco’s face. Then Marco smiled—so bright that even though the sun was yet to disappear, he had already replaced it. That was when Jean knew that he was incredibly whipped. So, he screwed all the consequences and pulled Marco in for a longing kiss.

           He must’ve shown the pain of the memory on his face. The boy—who seems to be the ring leader of the monkeys—smirks.

           “Oh, are you thinking of your lover boy Marco?” Jean clenches his fists to keep the rage inside. He can’t lose his temper over some kid. “I heard that he’s in pretty bad shape. In fact, I heard that it’s your fault that he’s there in the first place.”

           Jean freezes, even though he knows it’s true. Is this what everyone really thinks?

          Mikasa slams her fists against the table. The kids barely flinch. Stupid idiots.

          Another kid steps forward. He’s more muscle, definitely meaner looking, and reminds him a little bit of Reiner. “So, you’re going to have your girlfriend protect you now? It’s going through the grape vine that since that freak Eren Jaeger is fucking the Corporal, you and Mikasa have gotten it on. Guess it’s true, considering how Marco probably hates you.”

          Jean has never seen Mikasa so livid in her entire life.

         “Die and go to hell,” Jean spits. There are tears welling in his vision. He can’t hold back. He’s so angry and in so much pain and angry again because this kid’s false accusations are really pissing him off. “There is nothing going on between Mikasa and I, you little shits, now go back to the peewee table where you belong.”

         He’s surprised at how even his voice sounds, especially considering how much he’s breaking inside.

         “Is he crying? I think he’s crying. Jeesh, I think he’s as bad as Armin Arlert!”

         Mikasa flies forward; ready to strike at the insult of one of her childhood friends, when something tall blocks her. It doesn’t taken Jean of three seconds to recognize the person as Ymir. Her expression is strangely devoid of any emotion.

        “Were you saying something about my friends?”

         The boys gulp, minus the leader, growing wide eyed.

         “We’re not scared of you,” he says. Jean can tell he’s intimidated by the sheer height of Ymir.

          Despite claiming no fear, they start to back up, only to run into two more even taller bodies. Reiner and Bertholdt, followed by a tiny person, glare at the boys like they are all titans.

          “I think they were,” Reiner answers in a gruff voice.

          “That’s not very nice,” Krista says.

          “Think we should stomp on them?” Bertholdt asks.

           The group of boys’ response is to run away. They don’t look back as they scurry like mice, and if that isn’t enough, Reiner and Bertholdt take after them like sport. People in the cafeteria roll their eyes at the commotion, because they thought that they only have to deal with this kind of crap when Jean and Eren were around.

           Krista plops down next to him and lays a hand on his back, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t let them bother you. Everything that comes out of their mouth is fuelled by testosterone.”

           Ymir cracks her knuckles. “And if said testosterone comes into view again, I’ll be sure to teach them a very good lesson on keeping it under control.”

           Their words make Jean’s face burn. One, because he’s not incapable of defending himself, and two at the fact that his friends are so ready to jump to his defense. His heart does a strange flutter at this. He remembers a time where everyone hated him because he was too forward, and now, well, look at how far they’ve come.

           Besides Marco. Marco has taken four hundred steps back.

           He rubs the ring against his finger one, two, three times.

           Jean sees Marco’s smile; vivid and innocent. He realizes how much he wants to see it again.

           “Thanks,” Jean says. “I’m pretty sure Mikasa would’ve torn them apart if you hadn’t come.”

           Mikasa huffs, “well, they deserve it.”

           They all laugh, and it’s nice. Normal. It’s normal and that’s exactly what Jean needs, because he hates change. He wishes his superiors would’ve eased him into this, because finding out your boyfriend is alive and hates you is a pretty big change.

           Shit, he really wants to take a walk now. It’ll calm him. Now, he’s thinking about how different everything is going to be. Even through the death, they’d managed to find a happy medium. Eren found Levi. Jean found a semblance of happiness.

           It’s going to change.

           Jean swallows.

          “So, I doubt you came to rescue me. Is there something you need?”

           Usually he’d have some witty remark, but he’s drained. The world around him has pulled his emotions every which way.

           Ymir points towards the door over her shoulder. Jean notices that Reiner and Bertholdt had managed to run the guys out of the cafeteria. He assumes they are chasing them around outside. The notion is almost enough to make him smile.           

          “Corp’ wants to talk to you. Looked important,” she smiles.

           He can almost hear Mikasa roll her eyes.

           And he almost tells her to get over it.

           But he doesn’t, because she’s done so much for him.

           Jean sighs and stands up, knowing very well that it is going to be about Marco. For a split second, his mind tells him to just skip out and go to bed, but then a pang of guilt tears through him. How the hell could he think of something like that when Marco needs him?

           So, he looks Ymir in the eyes and says, “take us there.”

* * *

            Jean’s hates being put on the spot. It was no different in the court and it’s no different now. So, when he walks into the meeting room behind Ymir and Krista, and sees Corporal Levi with his feet propped up, he doesn’t think it is going to be that bad.

            And then, of course, he notices that Hanji and Erwin are sitting there, along with several people he doesn’t recognize. He knows now that he’s going to be questioned. His nerves start up again, because what is there to really talk about.

            The Corporal sighs, “It’s about time.”

            Jean can see Mikasa out of his peripheral vision looking around. She’s probably searching for Eren, who Jean notices is not around. Interesting. The annoying little prick usually trails the Corporal like a lost dog.

            “What do you need?”  Jean asks. He tries to sound exasperated and impatient. But, when he talks, his voice just sounds shaky. Now that he’s eaten, sleep is calling. He’s not a little a child who needs constant attention from their parents. Though, that’s what he feels like.

            Erwin stands and smiles, which tells Jean that it can’t be good news. He’s seen the commander use that same grin during court sessions, or delivering not too generous information. Jean braces and prepares for the worst; _we can’t fix Marco._

            Instead, he gets;

            “There’s been a discrepancy with who kidnapped Marco—” Erwin begins, but Hanji jumps up. She’s never been the one to beat around the bush. Jean likes that about her. That’s the kind of personality he has—expect just a little less titan obsessed.

            “It’s not Kenny Ackerman. He’s dead. We were wrong.”

            Levi rolls his eyes at the idea of being wrong.

            Jean stares at them, and then takes a step forward.

            “What?”

            He’s spent the last day hating a dead man. All of his energy has been wasted on a person who can’t breathe, let alone touch Marco. That pisses him off a hell of a lot more than it should, probably, but who gives a fuck anymore? Jean feels like he’s been living this nightmare all his life. The last thing he wants is to be lied to.

            He feels cheated. It would’ve been so easy to track the man down and end him. But now, they have nothing. It’s like a black hole of pain and misery. This isn’t something that can be touched. The person will roam free for longer because they _assumed._

            “Do you have any idea who wanted to hurt Marco?”

             He pushes that ring back and worth. He needs an answer. How is he supposed to get blood without a name?

             Erwin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Jean, but at the moment there are very few trails leading us-”

             Levi cuts Erwin off. He’s just like Hanji and Jean. “We don’t have shit.”

             He looks at every one of their faces. Levi has that everlasting bitch face, Hanji has that dreamy kind of edge, and Erwin has that façade of comfort that Jean would give his life to cut through. With those faces, he can conclude one thing: that they’re lying.

             That’s the exact reason Eren isn’t here. He would be able to see through it too. When you’re alone with one of the higher ups, it’s not nearly as obvious, but after seeing them in court working together, Jean just knows that there’s no truth here.

            “Are you sure?” He tries.

             Jean gets the terse answer of, “absolutely.”

            He wants to tell him that he knows they know, but that’s not going to get him anywhere. The last thing he needs is to get on their bad side. So, he sucks in a deep breath and asks,

           “What are we going to do, then?”

            Jean knows they’re surprised that he didn’t pry more.  What would be the point if he was going to get zero answers? It’s like scaling a mountain with this kind of people. You have to pick where you step, or it will be a sheer drop.

          “The only thing we can do is help Marco,” Erwin says. “I promise we’ll all pitch in. It’s a group effort when a family member is given back in a condition like this. I can’t say it’s the first time this has happened, but we’ve seen similar cases.

           Jean has never wanted to punch someone across the face more in his entire life. All those fights with Eren can’t be combined to match his sheer rage at hearing Erwin call Marco _family._ Erwin never knew Marco. None of them did.

          So, why are they so interested in him?

          Jean knows if it was another case, as Erwin called it, there wouldn’t be court or manipulation or all of this bullshit. The person would be told to get over it. That’s how they work. It’s the life they live. There has to be something special about Marco that has the entire Survey Corps and Military Police interested.

         Marco is a pawn, just like Eren had been and will always be. They want something with him that could help their cause.

         He clenches his fists and tries not to look angry. He knows he can’t say anything. They could keep him away from Marco. Now, he knows he’ll be kept away from his captor too. There’s a burst of energy through his exhaustion and anger. If he wants to do something about this, then he’ll have to do it himself.

        All Jean wants is this to be on a solid line. He wants to help Marco, get the man responsible for this mess, and bring Marco back to his family. That’s what everyone should want. There should be no corruption here.

        There’s silence in the room.

        “Is that all?” Jeans asks.

        “Yes,” Levi says. “Now get out. I’m tired.”

         He’s too done not to respond.

         "You’re not the only one.”

          Jean will get punishment for that later. He knows it.

         He grabs Mikasa and pulls her out, fast. If he’s going to get Marco’s captor, then he’ll need help. Not from the corrupt big three, but from everyone he trusts. Jean will see Marco later. Right now he’ll need a plan of action.

         They’re nearing the boys section of the barracks when Mikasa stops him.

         “You looked like you’re about to kill someone,” she states, “I didn’t say anything for your sake. I tried to stay back.”

          Jean makes sure nobody is around.

         He grabs Mikasa’s shoulders and leans forward, whispering, “They’re lying.”

         It sounds like the delusion of a crazy person; to think that these people they place so much faith in could be corrupt enough to use a broken kid. But it’s true. Jean can see it. He’s not crazy. They want to use Marco for something.

        Mikasa presses her lips together. “You could see it too?”

        He’s glad she’s not the only one. Jean sighs in relief.

        “I’m not crazy.”

        “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

        “I need you to gather some friends,” he tells her. “They’re up to something.”

         She pulls her scarf up, “do you think Eren knows?”

        Of course, it always goes back to Eren. But he can’t blame Mikasa for being worried. Eren has been used in more ways than one and if he’s part of it, that’ll mean he’s as corrupt as them. That’s the last thing they need. Even though they don’t get along, Jean and Eren are still friends.

        But Jean really doesn’t think Eren knows. He’s stubborn and strong willed. Even if the Corporal might be manipulating him, he would go for the right cause. Helping Marco is the course of action that isn’t tainted.

       “No,” Jean says. “I know he’s not. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cautious. You never know what he could blab or ask. We all know what Eren is like when he’s angry.”

        Jean doesn’t know when he got so calm. A couple seconds ago, he could’ve screamed at the top of his lungs. He really doesn’t even feel that tired anymore. Is it possible that he’s so tired that he feels awake?

       “So, what should we do?”

        Jean asked that question earlier. Now, he’s giving the answer he wanted to hear.

       “Go find some people we can trust. I’ll look too, and then we’ll meet at the tree.”

        He doesn’t have to specify what tree. Everybody in the Survey Corps knows about the tree.

         Jean turns to go.

        They’re going to save Marco. He swears it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of updates.  
> I had little inspiration and time.  
> My tumblr is:  
> http://midnightoflight.tumblr.com/  
> Feel free to ask questions!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be very spaced, but the story will be finished.  
> Feedback is appreciated. Thank you very much for reading!  
> My tumblr is: http://midnightoflight.tumblr.com/  
> Feel free to message me questions!


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